


the road to my heart (is paved with paw prints)

by Tedda



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Dogs, Falling In Love, Fluff, I cannot stress idiots enough, Idiots in Love, M/M, Moving In Together, Patrick is very oblivious, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24893464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedda/pseuds/Tedda
Summary: Patrick adopts a dog to cheer Jonny up after a breakup. He doesn't expect Jonny to move in with them.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 28
Kudos: 260





	the road to my heart (is paved with paw prints)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before Jonny's recent insta post but knowing that he's wearing shirts with his [ dog on them](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBzMl5In2Pi/) clearly validates the existence of this fic! :D
> 
> Apologies to all small dogs and small dog owners out there- I swear, I don't hate you!
> 
> And, of course, thanks to [ Jackie ](https://elcapitantoews19.tumblr.com/) for her spontaneous help!

Jonny starts being a moody asshole when his girlfriend breaks up with him. He snaps at Patrick on the bench and in the locker room. He yells at Saader on the ice until the poor guy looks close to tears. He goes ballistic over one of Sharpy’s pranks and then rips Seabs to pieces for not stopping him. It goes on for weeks, and Jonny has always set the tone for the team, so the locker room quickly becomes Patrick's personal hell, everyone tiptoeing around each other, tense and on edge. Patrick hates it. He hates the constant frown on Jonny's face that makes him look like a grumpy grandpa. It's not a pretty look.

He invites himself to a ride home in Jonny's car after practice, ignores Jonny's complaints, and makes himself comfortable on the couch at Jonny's place, determined to free them from their collective misery.

"Why are you here?" Jonny says stiffly, standing in the middle of the room like this isn't his home in which Patrick's merely the guest. He's got his arms folded across his chest, his tone demanding and pissed. Patrick's heard friendlier conversation openers in his life.

"Dude," he says, holding up both palms. He should have brought beer or something. Or those disgusting kale chips that Jonny adores so much. "She messed you up, dude."

"What?" Jonny's face closes off as he takes a step back.

"She was never good enough, you know?" That's something he's always felt strongly about. Patrick's not an idiot. He's got eyes and he knows Jonny. The guy is a total catch. Hyper-competitiveness and stubbornness aside, Jonny is charming and funny and kind of good-looking. Not to sound cliché but he's the kind of guy who turns ladies' heads without even trying.

"I think it's more her loss than yours," Patrick adds, aiming for a cheerful tone. Someone really needs to set Jonny's head straight, so the locker room becomes a pleasant place again. If he has to be that person, he's willing to take one for the team.

But Jonny's staring at him like he's grown a second head.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Kaner?"

Okay, maybe he takes that back. Jonny can be painfully stupid sometimes. That's not attractive.

"Your girl," he says patiently. "Or- ex now, I guess. Everyone knows you miss her but-"

Jonny interrupts him with a snort. "Jesus, Kaner."

"What?"

"I don't miss her." Jonny rolls his eyes, but he lets his arms fall to his side and huffs while he finally sits down. It's less unnerving than when he's towering over Patrick. "I don't- fuck, we were over a long time ago. I don't care."

"No?" That seems very unlikely.

"No," Jonny says and there's finally a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Then why are you all-" Patrick waves his hand through the air, wrinkling his nose. "All snappy and- man, you've been an asshole lately."

"I know," Jonny says, miserable now. Jesus Christ, he really is moody. Maybe Patrick should change his tactics here. He scoots closer and puts his hand on Jonny's shoulder, relieved when Jonny doesn't bite his head off. Instead, a sigh leaves Jonny's lips and he rubs at his eyes.

"I guess-" Another sigh. "I miss the dog."

Uh- excuse him?

"You miss the dog?"

Jonny's definitely looking sheepish now. He offers a shrug.

"It was nice to have him around, you know? To take him on walks and have him on my lap when I'm watching TV."

Even for Jonny's standards- and again he's very stupid sometimes- that is easily in the top five dumbest things Patrick's heard. Maybe not as dumb as Shawzy drunkenly swearing that he can read Patrick's mind, but it's close.

"That creature-" He grimaces. "That was closer to a rat than a dog, Jonny."

"C'mon, don't be a jerk," Jonny says but he's smiling, failing to bite back a grin. "That was just his breed."

"His breed was ankle-biter," Patrick insists.

"He’s never bitten anyone." Jonny sounds like Patrick insulted his mom. "Look, I know it's stupid, okay? I'll get over it."

"You’d better ‘cause you're scaring the rookies and pissing off the veterans."

Jonny, always the obsessive hockey robot, quickly turns his head. "Shit, that bad? I tried to not let anything show but-"

"Yes," Patrick interrupts, nodding solemnly. "That bad."

Jonny immediately swears to be better, because that's the kind of guy he is. At least he doesn't throw Patrick out, so- progress. When they watch a show though he keeps a pillow on his lap, absently stroking over the fabric, gently poking his finger against its zipper, until, halfway through the first episode, he catches himself and frowns down at his own hands, carefully putting the pillow aside. He has way more issues than Patrick could begin to imagine.

*

The idea occurs to him later that evening when he’s back at home, slightly tipsy because although he had held out through most of the first movie, Jonny had eventually provided them with beer, the shitty Canadian brand that Patrick already hated when he played in London and Gags would force it into him. He's got zero luck when it comes to teammates. Anyway, he's had maybe one bottle too many and has his mind set on putting Jonny out of his misery.

Patrick could adopt a dog. Not a lame-ass little rat but a cool manly dog. Maybe a Lab or one of Bicks' Pits. That would be cool. Jonny might have joked about having the least manly dog and being chill about it, but he did look ridiculous with that rat. Patrick is not going to humiliate himself with such a creature. He and Jonny spend so much time together anyway, especially now that Jonny's single again, and if he gets a dog, it will distract Jonny and win over his heart, and Patrick's an awesome friend, basically.

The part where he's never had a dog and has no clue about raising a dog- he'll figure that out. He can start by calling Segs. Segs has three dogs- beautiful, cute Labs- and he knows his shit.

"You're getting a dog?" Segs repeats, delighted. If he realizes that Patrick's slurring his words, he doesn't show it. "Didn't know you were a dog person."

Well, neither did Patrick.

"Yup," he says, popping the p. "Hey, I was wondering- can you send me like a list of- uh, dog stuff? Like what I need to buy?"

"Yeah, yeah." In the background, Segs is typing away on a keyboard. He's probably more excited than Patrick. "I'll send you a few links too. Are you getting a puppy or an older dog?"

That's a good question.

"Not a puppy," Patrick decides on a whim. He can't train a dog and he doubts Jonny could either. Not that Jonny wouldn't try but that seems like he’d be setting them both up for disaster.

"Okay, not this page then," Segs mutters to himself. "I'll send you some stuff, Kaner. Hey, I want pictures, okay?"

"Obviously."

His dog is going to be the best anyways. Not even close.

Segs sends him a list and a few helpful links half an hour later. Patrick's in bed by then but he clicks the Amazon links and orders everything Segs recommends. A dog bed, collars, treats, food, cute dog accessories that Patrick can't deny are adorable, and a very impressive collection of dog toys. The bill is also very impressive. Man, the shit he does for Jonny, seriously.

*

The idea seems significantly less good in the morning. He's never had a dog, not even a family dog when he was a kid. In fact, he's never even owned a hamster or rabbit and never had any desire to do so. He has no idea what he's doing. Hell, he doesn't even have a dog sitter for the road trips.

He pushes the thought away because he's going to be late for morning skate. When he comes back home though, there are ten boxes from Amazon and a text from Segs waiting for him. And fuck it, Patrick's not going to send all this shit back and admit to Segs that he was drunk and stupid and ruin whatever bit of dignity he's got left.

Hesitantly, he takes a closer look at the links. According to the websites, he has all the toys and supplies he needs right here. And one of the guys can probably hook him up with a vet.

He gets distracted by one of the pages that has a huge list of dog names, and Patrick's eyes catch on the section titled _unusual Scottish names_. The first suggestion makes him grin like an idiot.

Calder.

He could name his dog Calder and forever remind Jonny who won the award for best rookie of the league. And Sharpy would be pissed that Shooter isn’t the dog with the most obnoxious name anymore and it would be awesome.

Patrick's really getting ahead of himself here.

But maybe- he, unlike Jonny, had never been in any of Bicks' calendars, but he knows what shelter the dogs are from. He could visit, just see the dogs, talk to them, see what happens.

*

When he walks in, every single worker lights up. He should have known that they’d love celebrities and public figures being seen here.

"Did Mr. Bickell recommend us?" one of the women asks. She looks so happy and excited and Patrick feels himself nod.

"I was thinking about uh- adopting a dog. Not a puppy. But- yeah, I just wanted to see the dogs here, I guess. To get an impression."

She leads him through a small corridor first, framed by dogs in single-cages. Patrick's never been in a shelter, so he didn't know what to expect. Maybe something shabbier. It's not a cozy atmosphere but it is clean, and the dogs look good and healthy. They all hurry to the front of the cages, sniffing the air and barking while Patrick takes it all in. The scenery is a little overwhelming. Maybe he shouldn't have come.

"We have a few more dogs outside," she says at the end of the corridor before he can consider making up an excuse and leave, pushing another door open. It leads to another huge dog enclosure where a few dogs are all running around together, barely paying attention when they crouch down at the gate.

"They've just been fed," the woman explains with a chuckle. "So, we're not that interesting. Do you want to get inside with them?"

Well, Patrick's here now so he might as well make use of it. So, he nods and follows her inside, sitting down on the warm grass. Now he's definitely a person of interest. Two dogs come running over, sniffing his hands, giving tiny barks. Despite not being a dog person Patrick grins when their snouts tickle his arms.

He earns a warm smile in response.

"This guy right here," she points out, smoothing her hand through the thick fur of the closest dog. "He got here not long ago. Unfortunately, his family had a medical emergency and didn't have the money and time to take care of him. He's about three years old so still very young but fully trained." The dog gives an approving bark, lazily moves up and Patrick finds a snout resting on his chest then, huge puppy eyes staring up at him. They're a deep dark brown, kind of like Jonny's, and his heart skips a beat. This dog is adorable.

She keeps rambling off facts, that he's mixed-breed, playful and loyal, what kind of food and toys he likes, how to groom and take care of him like she can hear Patrick's brain working as he absently strokes his hands through the long black fur. There are small white patches around the snout, chest, and paws.

"What's his name?" he asks.

"Stanley," she says, and Patrick's not into signs or destiny or shit like that, but it feels like this is one coincidence too many. Stanley fits his lifestyle, Stanley likes him, and his name is literally Stanley.

Apparently, being a known hockey player and knowing a guy who has done a lot for this shelter has its perks. Patrick spends two hours in the dog enclosure, all his attention on Stanley, feeding him snacks, stroking his fur, and telling him about Jonny and how much Jonny is going to love him. By the end of the day, he's ready to sign the papers to take Stanley with him.

It's officially an adoption on trial. But deep down he knows that there's no way he's returning Stanley. Somehow in the span of 24 hours, he got himself a dog. His mom is going to kill him. He doesn't really though care while Stanley investigates the condo, sniffs at the dog bed Patrick points him to, and then proceeds to ignore it in favor of claiming a spot on the couch.

"Hey, that's my space."

Stanley sticks his tongue out and pants, getting drool all over Patrick's favorite pillow.

He's so fucked.

*

The night goes surprisingly well. Stanley sleeps in his bed- of course- and Patrick's never sweated so much. But Stanley lets him use him as a pillow and that's nice too even if he's got dog hair all over himself in the morning and has to take an extra-long shower.

It's a day off so he sleeps in and takes Stanley for a quick walk, relieved to find that he is well-behaved and surprisingly easy to handle on a leash. Jonny texts him just as he lets himself back into his condo, and Patrick knows he's got about ten minutes before Jonny's going to be here.

He spends them very giddy and excited, Stanley staring at him like he's questioning his willingness to come with Patrick already.

"You're gonna love him," Patrick promises and Stanley blinks before he slumps down, snout on his paws.

Jonny, in true Jonny fashion, doesn't ring or knock like a normal person. He uses the spare key Patrick gave him for emergencies to let himself in, kicks off his shoes like a good polite Canadian boy, and starts bitching about Patrick's sneakers in the hallway like this is his place.

"Seriously I don't get why you need all these pairs when they all look the sa-"

Stanley barks and Jonny's eyes go very round. It's a funny sight. That alone is worth it all.

"Hey, Jonny," Patrick says from his spot on the couch. He refuses to let Stanley steal it.

It's almost a copy of the last time they saw each other, Jonny standing bewildered in the room, Patrick almost amused on the couch.

"What the fuck?" Jonny blurts out. Very eloquent. "What's up with the dog, Kaner?"

He absently reaches down and scratches Stanley's chin, long fingers working through the fluffy fur. It's a cute sight.

"I figured he'd cheer you up."

"Cheer me up?"

"Yeah." Patrick pushes himself up into a sitting position, so he feels less small compared to Jonny. "He's adorable, right?"

"I mean, yeah," Jonny says slowly. "But- where is he coming from?"

"You know the shelter where Bicks got the Pits for his calendar?"

"Okay, so- let me get this straight." Jonny's shamelessly staring at Stanley who's very into the chin scratches, leaning his head into Jonny's palm, staring up at him longingly. "You got a dog from the shelter to spend the day with us, so I'd be less sad?"

Close.

"Uh no- I- uh- adopted him."

Jonny's face crumbles, going from confusion to shock to panic and disbelief in about a second.

"You-" His voice is very high-pitched suddenly. "You just went and adopted this- this dog?"

"His name is Stanley."

"His name is Stanley," Jonny repeats, dumbfounded. "You named this dog after the Stanley Cup?"

For some reason, he sounds the most upset about the name. Patrick rolls his eyes.

"I didn't name him after the Stanley Cup, asshole. His previous owner named him Stanley. I thought about calling my dog Calder, actually."

Jonny snorts. Finally, he sits down on the other side of the couch, cautious like he's expecting Patrick to hide another dog under the pillows, looking down in irritation when Stanley follows and rests his head on Jonny's knee, panting.

"So-" he says slowly. "You adopted a dog. Named Stanley. You adopted a dog for _yourself_ to cheer _me_ up."

That's pretty much the gist of it. Admittedly, the plan sounded way smarter when he was drunk.

"Kaner," Jonny says, still very slowly like he thinks Patrick's either dumb or deaf. "You don't know shit about owning a dog."

"You do though. And I asked Segs."

"You asked Tyler Seguin?"

"Right." It's kind of rude to sound so- dismissive. Sure, Tyler has his reputation, and, like, 90 percent of that is justified but the dude does take his dogs seriously. Patrick has met them all and they're a slobbering mess, but well-trained and objectively pretty adorable.

"Right," Jonny repeats and he sounds like a broken record at this point.

Patrick makes a face. "Right," he says mockingly, mimicking Jonny's monotone voice. "Are we playing that game where you repeat everything I say now?"

"Of course not," Jonny says, all irritated and annoyed. "But are you out of your mind?"

"You asked me that when I came up with the plan to prank Sharpy and that one turned out well."

"Yeah, one out of ten." Jonny snorts but there's a spark of hope in his eyes. "Is this a prank?"

He waves his hand around and almost hits Stanley in the face. The dog makes a whiny sound and takes a step back, staring up at Jonny with wide, trusting eyes.

"Dude, watch it," Patrick hisses because Stanley might not have been his for long but he's going to kill anyone who hurts his dog.

"Sorry," Jonny says and he smooths his hand along Stanley's head, scratching his ears, his voice going soft as he adds, "Sorry, didn't mean to hit you there, bud."

Okay, that puppy voice of his- That's pretty darn cute. Patrick has never noticed that pitch in his tone.

"Not a prank," Patrick says, relaxing. If Stanley forgives Jonny so can he.

Jonny frowns but he finally sighs and throws his arms up. "Fuck, I need a drink."

So, he ends up stretched out on Patrick's couch, one arm thrown around Stanley's body, flopping his ears around, scratching his skin, forcing happy barks and noises out of Stanley's throat. Their beer bottles are sitting on the couch table and Patrick's watching the interaction with a weird feeling in his gut, a kind of fuzzy buzzing that he can't put his finger on. It's stupid because Jonny liking Stanley was the whole point of this and thankfully Stanley's happy to snuggle up to Jonny but still- the point wasn't for him to completely ignore Patrick.

"I mean, yeah he is cute," Jonny says and he's not looking away from Stanley to meet Patrick's eyes. And they say Canadians are polite. Fucking horseshit. Ugh. Patrick cringes at even thinking that. He hates it when Jonny's language rubs off on him.

"He sure is."

Jonny frowns. "But how is that even going to work? Do you have a vet?"

"One of the boys can recommend one. Or you know someone?”

Jonny sighs. "Who's going to watch him when we're on the road?"

"I'll find a dog hotel. Segs has three dogs and he's just fine."

"Seguin grew up around dogs."

Why is Jonny only looking for problems here? It's getting a little frustrating.

"You have experience with dogs."

"I thought it was a rat." At least the corner of Jonny's mouth is twitching as he says that.

"Yeah but I guess it counts."

"Generous," Jonny says dryly. "Stanley is not my dog though."

"C'mon we're hanging out all the time. And you always think you know everything. You are unable not to insert yourself anyway."

"Not true."

"Totally true."

"Fine, maybe a little bit," Jonny admits. He finally looks at Patrick at least, his fingers sliding around Stanley's ear in circles. "So how much exercise does he need? He's huge so I am guessing he needs a couple walks a day."

That sounds more like his Jonny. Never backing away from a challenge, coming up with a gameplan right away. Patrick knew it- they've got this.

"Let's go and find out."

Stanley needs a walk anyways, Patrick only went for a short one with him today and the dog is wagging his tail already at the idea of getting outside, ears perking up.

"I can't believe you're making me walk your dog," Jonny grumbles once they're in the park, the leash firmly in one hand. He huffs, pulling Stanley a little closer to his feet. "I can't believe you got a dog."

"You love him."

Patrick's been watching Jonny's face and he has that expression on it, a deep frown with the corner of his mouth twitching which is a dead sign that the frown is mostly fake.

"He's more pleasant than his owner," Jonny agrees with a smile and Patrick snorts but lets that comment go for the sake of peace. Jonny does know more about dogs than Patrick- which isn't hard, he has to admit- and Patrick kind of needs him.

They reach a small park where they let Stanley off the leash to run and he takes off immediately with a happy bark, his long fur flowing in the wind as he runs.

"No duck chasing," Patrick yells after him but he doubts Stanley will listen. Jonny chuckles, bumps his shoulder against Patrick's, and smiles.

"He is well-behaved."

"Well, obviously." Not that Patrick's got anything to do with that. He just got lucky with Stanley but still- His dog is the bestest of dogs. Duh.

"Cocky is not a good look on you, Kaner."

Liar. Patrick smirks back and he slumps down on the closest bench while Stanley chases a squirrel. Well, it's no duck so technically Stanley isn't misbehaving. Patrick decides to let it slip.

"For real though," Jonny says after a few minutes of peaceful silence. "You don't even like pets."

How Patrick hates it when Jonny has a point.

He shrugs. "I like Stanley."

Jonny snorts, all condescending and unamused.

"You woke up, decided to adopt a dog, got a bunch of shit from amazon, and took the first dog home from a shelter? That's fucked up, even for you."

Rude. Patrick was way more responsible when approaching this brilliant idea. He did ask Segs. And he got all the dog supplies before taking Stanley home so joke's on Jonny.

"I just meant to look at the dogs, okay?" he defends himself. "But then I started playing with him and it just- it seemed to be a good fit. And you love him so shut up."

Jonny just stares at him, face blank, brows furrowed. Finally, he sighs.

"Fine, whatever."

They call Stanley back after another ten minutes, feed him a few treats, and make their way back home. A few fans meet them and they all insist on petting Stanley who soaks the attention in, sneaking his way into every single picture.

"He's craving attention as badly as you are," Jonny points out at home, grinning. Patrick throws a can of dog food at his head but Jonny catches that easily and then proceeds to scan the ingredients because he's apparently just as anal about dogs' nutrition as human food. What a dork. Patrick should have known and he can't bite back a smirk over how fond he's feeling.

"So?" he asks, rolling his eyes. "Everything okay with that? Or do I need to drive to Whole Foods and grab him a few steaks?"

Jonny huffs. "Raw feeding is good for them," he says, then shrugs and puts the can down to open it. "But this shit is solid."

Stanley seems to agree because he's already wagging his tail, sniffing Jonny's fingers and hands, tongue sticking out while Jonny dumps the food into a bowl and sets it down.

"There you go, bud," he whispers, and Stanley gives a tiny bark as thanks before pushing Jonny away, inhaling the food.

It's kind of cute how high-pitched and gentle Jonny's voice gets whenever he talks to the dog. A stark contrast to the bitchy pissed-off monotone voice of his that he likes to use on Patrick.

"Segs recommended this," Patrick says, the noises of Stanley munching on his food filling the kitchen. "And I think Stanley likes it."

"To be fair I think he would like some cheap shit from Walmart just as much. Kind of how you still love your disgusting cereal."

"It's not disgusting."

"Oh yeah, it is." Jonny snorts but waves his hands around as if he's dismissing the topic. "Either way the dog is happy and fed and we need to find a dog sitter."

Right, the upcoming road trip.

"Maybe Abby can take him if he gets along with Shooter. Or Dayna but-"

"No," Jonny interrupts, shaking his head. "Seabs has three dogs. Poor Stanley would just be overwhelmed."

Good point.

"Abby then."

Jonny shakes his head again. "Stanley just got here. He's still getting used to your condo and I don't think it's good for him to be away overnight when he's still getting settled. And, you know, two little girls can be a lot for a dog."

Patrick would never admit it out loud, but he'd be kind of screwed without Jonny. He does know his shit.

"So- uh- I can ask Segs if his dog sitter knows people here."

Jonny gives him a very unimpressed look while he stalks over to the couch, an exasperated sigh coming over his lips.

"Is asking Tyler Seguin your solution to every dog-related problem?"

Well- pretty much. "Unless you have other ideas."

"In fact, I do," Jonny says and he spends the next hour on his phone until he's talking to someone who apparently took the rat in when Jonny was traveling with his ex.

"Can they handle him though?" Patrick asks, grinning when Stanley abandons Jonny's side to put his front paws on Patrick's knees. His breath smells disgusting but Patrick still ruffles his fur. "I mean- you could probably just kick that little rat to the side and he's a very big and strong boy."

"Not a rat," Jonny insists, voice tight. "And they know more shit about dogs than you so shut the fuck up."

Patrick does but only because Stanley climbs in his lap and he's a little overwhelmed by the huge dog that is struggling to understand that he isn't a lapdog. He tolerates it though if only to laugh about Jonny's irritated frown.

*

Jonny doesn't spend the night which kind of sucks. But he shows up early in the morning when Patrick's sleep-rumbled and barely out of bed.

"Dude, have you not taken the dog out yet?" Jonny asks accusingly.

Since Patrick hasn't, Jonny huffs and snatches the leash from Patrick's dresser, luring Stanley into the hallway with a few treats. He didn't get them from Patrick, so he must have gone out of his way to buy some himself and for some reason, the thought fills Patrick with warmth. He was totally right about this dog-thing. Jonny's already throwing himself into it, dedicated to being the best caretaker possible.

"I'll be back soon," Jonny calls out, and then the door is falling shut and Patrick isn't sure if he misses Jonny or Stanley first.

They spend an hour in the park, throwing sticks, and then proceed to let Stanley chase a plastic hockey ball in the living room, stickhandling around his paws and snout, trying to feed passes to each other without letting him catch the ball.

"We should take him on the ice," Patrick says, laughing. "Have you seen that video of the dog ice skating? I bet Stanley looks cute on skates."

Jonny's spread out on the living room floor, grinning at the dog that has finally snatched the ball and is chewing on it, beaming with pride that he got it, front paws stretched out, butt in the air, his tail wagging. If Patrick was missing this all those years he should have gotten a dog way sooner, he thinks as he flops down next to Jonny. He pokes his fingers into his ribs to be a dick, but Stanley interprets Jonny's yelp as a call for help and shuffles in between them, barking obnoxiously.

"Bite," Jonny mutters darkly. "Stanley, go bite him."

Stanley barks again and very gently licks Patrick's hand. He seems happy to be on his belly between them, both of them petting his hair and scratching his ears. Occasionally Patrick's fingers brush over Jonny's and when he finally looks up, Jonny's smiling at him, all soft and happy.

"I can stay the night," Jonny says, fingers moving to Stanley's belly. The dog lifts one paw and dreamily lets his eyes fall shut. "Take him out in the morning, make sure he gets a good run."

That doesn't sound like Jonny at all. "Since when are you a morning person?"

"I am not." He shrugs. "But- I told you. I always liked the walks and having a reason to get out of bed and to get some fresh air and a coffee before a shower."

Huh. How did Patrick never know that?

"You can have the guest room if you want."

"Cool," Jonny says and they go back to petting Stanley in silence.

Jonny is his usual judging self in the evening when Stanley hops into bed with Patrick, tramples along the sheets once and flops down next to Patrick, snout on his chest.

"Really?" Jonny says stiffly, nodding to the side. "His dog bed is right there."

Patrick doesn't recall having seen the dog in there since the first initial investigation.

"Since he's in here I'd argue this is a dog bed as well."

The corner of Jonny's mouth twitches. It's very satisfying.

"You're an idiot, Kaner. Don't come whining when he takes up all the space."

Stanley is already taking up all the space. His paw digs uncomfortably into Patrick's thigh and his dog breath isn't the most pleasant smell but Patrick grins and very discreetly adjusts Stanley's leg under the blanket to not give Jonny the satisfaction.

"You know me. I never complain."

"Oh, that's new," Jonny says, rolling his eyes. He shakes his head. "Night, asshole. See you tomorrow."

He hasn't properly yelled at Patrick all day, so the plan is totally working, and this was a huge success. Patrick's very smug when he finally falls asleep.

Less smug when Jonny waltzes into his bedroom in the early morning, grumpy and sleepy, hair sticking in all directions. He's in only his boxer briefs because Jonny's a giant Canadian freak who radiates heat and is allergic to clothes. Patrick blinks when Stanley lands on the ground with a soft thump and barks happily.

"You know you're lucky you got me, bud," Jonny says to the dog, and his voice sounds nice when it's so gentle and scratchy, rough with sleep at the same time. Since they haven't been roommates in a while Patrick forgot it sounds like that. "Are we gonna go for a walk? Run in the park and chase some ducks, eh?"

Stanley wags his tail and barks again.

"No duck chasing," Patrick mutters into his pillow. "Also, he's a dog. He's not gonna answer. Duh."

Stanley huffs and shakes his head, collar rattling.

"Yeah," Jonny says and Patrick can _hear_ the grin. "You tell him, bud."

"Fuck off and leave my condo. Both of you."

He kind of hates that Jonny listens to him. But since he's an awesome dog owner and an even more awesome friend he drags himself out of bed, fills Stanley's bowl, and makes a pot of coffee and some tea because Jonny tends to be both picky and unpredictable.

When Jonny comes back he's in sweatpants, wearing only a shirt- how is that guy not constantly sick or frozen to death at this point? Jesus- and he still looks sleep-rumpled. His cheeks are red, hair still messy, and he arches an eyebrow.

"Do I have something on my face?"

Oh. Patrick wasn't aware he was staring. He quickly rolls his eyes and slides a mug of coffee across the kitchen island.

"No, the problem is your face itself."

"Gee, charming." Jonny picks up the mug and makes a happy sound, pausing to look at it. "Hey, did you get soy milk?"

"Well, I figured if you're sleeping here you'd want some lactose-free shit. And- you know, I don't want to be yelled at in the early morning. You're an intolerable zombie without your caffeine."

"Sorry." Jonny takes another sip and smiles, genuine and soft. "Thanks. You didn't have to."

"It's for my sake more than yours," he lies and Jonny huffs but grins back, silently sipping his coffee.

Patrick rolls his eyes- again- but they have to hurry up if they want to make it to practice in time. He can't help but notice that Jonny's a lot more relaxed than he's been in forever. He barely yells at Saader for missing his pass so that's something.

There's no question he's going to come home with Patrick again and it's nice how it quickly feels like a routine to nap together, Stanley curled up at Jonny's feet, snoring lightly. It's domestic and Patrick really likes it.

*

Leaving Stanley for the first road trip is surprisingly hard. He has met their dog sitter before and he doesn't look particularly sad or distressed that they're leaving but that's exactly what's freaking Patrick out.

"He thinks we'll be back soon," he says, biting into his lower lip. "Jonny, what if he thinks we abandoned him when we don't come home in the evening?"

"Oh my god, don't be dramatic." Jonny ruffles Stanley's hair and bends down to drop a kiss to the top of his head. Why does that make Patrick's breath hitch? "He's going to get used to it and he's in good hands, okay?"

If this is what the guys feel when they have to leave their babies behind, Patrick is starting to understand why being an NHL player and father at the same time is hard. At least they're going to get updates from the dog sitter and Patrick keeps checking his phone for pictures of Stanley.

"You went from not being a pet person to obsessive freak real quick," Jonny comments. He's leaning against the doorframe that connects their rooms, arms folded across his chest.

"Congrats on not being the obsessive freak for once."

Jonny chuckles and he walks into the room, slumping down on Patrick's bed.

"Watch my suit, asshole."

"Put your suit on a hanger or chair like a normal person then," Jonny says, rolling his eyes. But he shuffles to the side and lets Patrick save his suit before it gets too wrinkly.

"You miss the dog," Jonny adds, his tone surprisingly soft. Duh.

Maybe it wasn't so stupid of Jonny after all to miss the little rat. Well, missing the rat, that is stupid but missing a dog. Patrick didn't think he'd get so attached. Who would have thought?

"I just got used to him quickly," he says, nudging Jonny's shoulder. "He's a pretty awesome dog, eh?"

Jonny laughs but it's soft, almost fond.

"Obviously, Kaner. The best."

Damn right. He tilts his head to rest it against Jonny's shoulder and lets his eyes fall shut. After all these years of sharing rooms on the road, all those years of being teammates and best friends, Jonny smells like home. Like hockey and the rink and the comfort of video games and pizza and the weight of a franchise on their shoulders. Jonny's used the same cologne for all that time and Patrick catches a whiff of it, feeling a smile tug on the corner of his lips.

"I am happy to co-parent my dog with you."

"Jesus," Jonny mutters back. "You're ridiculous."

Still, the point stands. And Jonny can deny it all he wants but he's lived at Patrick's for almost a week and they have their own routine by now. Jonny takes Stanley out in the morning while Patrick makes breakfast. They head to the rink for a light skate and to eat before going back home, taking Stanley on a walk and driving back to the rink. After that, they take Stanley for another quick walk, take a nap, and either spend some time in the park or the living room. Jonny's barely been at his own place this past week, only to take care of his mail and bills or to grab new clothes. Now that Patrick's thinking about it, Jonny's had an impressive amount of shit at Patrick's place to begin with, but, over the last week, the guest room became pretty much Jonny's room. Not that he minds.

*

Jonny's out grabbing dinner with a few guys when Patrick's hanging out with Sharpy, catching a few highlights from the other games.

"So, I heard you and Jonny got a dog," Sharpy says, barely taking his eyes off the screen where Duchene just scored a goal. Patrick almost chokes on nothing.

He's pretty sure he didn’t tell anyone and neither did Jonny.

"How do you know?" he says slowly.

Sharpy snorts. "There's pictures of you guys and that dog all over social media."

Well- maybe Patrick should have known that. He couldn't count the number of pictures they had to take with fans when they were walking Stanley.

"We didn't adopt a dog together," he says after a few seconds of silence. "Stanley is my dog. Tazer's just- helping me out I guess."

"Hold on." Sharpy furrows his brow and he suddenly sits up a little straighter. "You got a dog? And- you named him Stanley?"

Jeez. Why is everyone so stuck on the name thing?

"He already had his name," he huffs. "And yes, I got a dog. Why? I wasn't aware I'd have to ask my teammates for permission?"

"You don't. Obviously." Sharpy huffs back. As if it's so bizarre that Patrick would like to have a pet around. "But you always went on about how you don't like pets and you've never even talked about changing your mind. So- sorry, if I am surprised."

"It was spontaneous," Patrick admits. He's not going to tell Sharpy that he got a dog for Jonny's sake, not if he doesn't have to. It worked so fuck the chirps he would get in response but he's not going to humiliate himself further and offer chirping material for the next months.

"Right," Sharpy says, skeptical. "So- Jonny's been living with you now or what's going on there?"

"Pretty much."

"Huh."

That doesn't say a lot. And Patrick has no idea what to make of it. He settles on furrowing his brow when Sharpy just keeps looking at him all thoughtful and reflective like he's thinking about saying something big and important.

"You know Jonny," Patrick hears himself say. "He knows everything better and he thinks I'd fuck up anyways."

"C'mon, that's not fair," Sharpy says mildly and no, it isn't. Contrary to how he might act sometimes, Jonny is one of the few people on earth that don't think Patrick's about to fuck up whatever he touches. He does think he knows everything better and gets involved, but that's just Jonny being Jonny and as much as he complains about it, Patrick has always appreciated Jonny's dedication.

"I know." Sighing, Patrick picks on a loose seam on the bedsheets. "He's- he's just been great, you know?"

"Jonny? Or the dog?"

"Uh- Jonny. But the dog too."

"Right," Sharpy says and it comes out dry. Like maybe Patrick's missing something. Before he can consider getting defensive Sharpy claps his shoulder and shoots him a wry smile. "I guess if it works for you guys."

"It's nothing permanent," Patrick says. It feels weird that he needs to say that out loud to remind himself. When he got Stanley he didn't consider that maybe they wouldn't always be constantly around each other, that one day they might not be as close anymore. A world in which Jonny doesn't waltz unannounced into his condo, in which Patrick can't tell him to come over and Jonny will be there ten minutes later doesn't even seem like a world that's worth living in.

Sharpy hums and he grabs the remote, changing the channel to some basketball highlights, giving Patrick an excuse to look back at the screen.

"Weirdly enough I can see you with a dog," Sharpy adds after another minute, stretching his arms. "Hey, come over with him soon, yeah? He can meet Shooter and we can teach the dogs to attack Jonny."

Patrick chuckles. "That sounds good."

He settles back against his pillows, pushing every thought about Stanley or Jonny away. Things are fine, things will be fine once they get back. There's nothing different than when he got there.

*

They win both their next games. Patrick's in a really good mood and Jonny's loose and relaxed in the car next to him, humming along to whatever country song is playing. He looks good. Patrick's so used to seeing Jonny in a suit that he never really noticed how obnoxious it looks when Jonny leaves the first two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. How inviting the long line of his throat is, all smooth skin and strong muscles at the base of his neck.

"Stop staring," Jonny says, frowning. Somehow, he pulls off even that look. "Fucking weirdo."

Patrick smiles at how fond he sounds. "I wasn't staring."

"You totally were." Jonny's head falls back against the headrest and he shrugs. "Are you going to take Stanley out?"

"Yeah. Are you coming?"

"Sure."

"Cool," Patrick says. He has trouble keeping the smile off his face.

Stanley goes crazy when he greets them. He's barking and jumping and Patrick's pretty sure he should tell him off but fuck it, he missed him. He can be lenient and spoil him and tolerate it when Stanley puts his front paws on Patrick's shoulders and licks his face.

"That's disgusting," Jonny comments but he doesn't protest when Stanley does the same to him and Patrick rolls his eyes while Jonny wraps both arms around the dog and kisses his head.

They take Stanley out for a walk, let him chase a few toys in the park, and he comes running towards them, tongue sticking out so that it looks like a grin is plastered across his face. Patrick snaps a picture and Jonny can laugh and tease him all he wants but he's going to get it framed to hang it up in the hallway. When they get home, Stanley immediately tries to curl up on Jonny's chest, still not understanding that he's not a chihuahua. It's irritating and charming equally.

"Shut up. You get to cuddle with him during the night," Jonny mutters when Patrick starts chirping him. "Let me have my moments."

"Sure, Tazer."

Patrick grabs the box of treats, knowing that Stanley would still hear the noise if Patrick was in Buffalo rattling the metal box. And it pisses Jonny off when Patrick steals Stanley's attention, so he makes a soft noise.

"Hey, Stanley. Wanna have some treats, bud?"

Jonny yelps as Stanley digs his paws into his chest to hop up and race into the kitchen, drooling already, his eyes wide and longing like he hasn't been fed in weeks. A pitiful, desperate whine leaves his throat as he sits down. His body is trembling, ready to jump up as soon as Patrick drops the small piece of meat. He almost jumps right into the kitchen island and barks, all betrayed and hurt, that Patrick doesn't immediately offer a second piece.

"Don't be greedy," he says, amused. "That's all you get or Jonny's going to give me another lecture about healthy dogs."

"Hey," Jonny yells from the living room. He's still rubbing his ribs where Stanley's paws dug into his body as he got up. "I just don't want the dog to be as fat as you."

Later when Patrick gets ready to head to bed Jonny frowns at Stanley on the bed, stretched out, snoring lightly.

"Why does he get to sleep only in your bed?"

Patrick waggles his eyebrows. "Jealous, baby?"

"Don't call me baby."

"Aw," he makes, blowing Jonny a kiss because he gets hilariously irritated by over the top signs of affection when he's not the one displaying them.

Jonny pinches the bridge of his nose and rolls his eyes. "Stop that, Kaner."

Fine. Patrick sighs. "Look, first you're bitching about how I shouldn't let him sleep in my bed. Now you're complaining he doesn't sleep in yours? You're not making any fucking sense, man."

He rolls his eyes at Jonny's huff and pointedly does it again when Jonny slumps down on Patrick's bed. Sometimes he wonders how he had to end up with the biggest weirdo.

Jonny's curled around Stanley's body, fingers stroking through the thick black fur when Patrick gets back from the bathroom and he frowns at the scene. Something clutches at his heart. It's so peaceful, Jonny's face half-smashed into Stanley's fur, eyes closed, naked chest rising and falling with every breath.

Patrick forces himself to snort.

"You have your own bed, man. You're not going to kick me out of my bedroom."

"I'm not," Jonny agrees but he doesn't move, and Patrick finally decides he's too tired for this shit and flops down next to them.

"Move," he says, pushing on Stanley's limbs and kicking at Jonny's legs. "Now who is fat?"

Jonny chuckles into Stanley's fur and Patrick surrenders with a sigh. Apparently, this is his life now. Whatever. Jonny's probably going to remember his principles about dogs in bed soon and he'll be annoyed by the lack of space anyways and he'll just leave. But Patrick falls asleep too quickly to witness him leaving.

It turns out in the morning that Jonny is still in his bed. Patrick's lying at the very edge, one leg already dangling over it.

"Stanley," he whines but when he lifts his head it's Jonny who's taking up most of the space. Stanley is between them, his snout on Jonny's chest, tail on Patrick's thigh. Jesus Christ.

Then Stanley's ears turn, he stirs, face lighting up that Patrick's awake. The barking alerts Jonny who presses his face into a pillow, groaning deeply.

"Go take the dog out," Patrick says, poking his toe into Jonny's calf.

"Five more minutes," it comes from the pillow. Patrick clearly got himself two babies here. He increases the pressure of his toe until Jonny yelps. "Fuck you, asshole."

But he rolls out of bed, bitchy and grumpy, his morning frown on his face that makes Patrick smile.

"See you," he yells very sweetly after Jonny has yanked on some sweatpants and found the leash. The snort he gets in response is loud enough to reach his ears even from the hallway.

*

Jonny forgets about his principles after that. He climbs into Patrick's bed like it's his and raises an eyebrow when Patrick huffs.

"What?"

"Nothing." Patrick surrenders with a sigh. "Don't forget to set an alarm for morning skate."

"I never forget my alarms."

"I'm pretty sure I've heard Seabs say something else."

"Seabs was my alarm," Jonny argues. "It's not my fault he was sleeping in."

"That was literally the day they gave you a letter."

"And I was named Captain like half a year later so joke's on you."

Fuck Jonny for being right. And fuck the Hawks for thinking this asshole is a good Captain. No one knows how much Patrick's suffering.

Sighing, he slumps back and Jonny chuckles but tolerates it that Patrick presses his cold toes against his legs.

"You're from Buffalo," Jonny mutters. "You should be used to cold weather."

"Not everyone grew up around polar bears, Jon."

"Don't be stupid," Jonny says, a smile in his voice. "I've never seen a polar bear in my life."

"My point stands."

"No, it doesn't." Jonny snorts but his legs are pleasantly warm, slowly heating up Patrick's cold feet. So, sharing a bed with Stanley and Jonny has its perks, and Patrick's only looking at the benefits. It's got nothing to do with the fact that it's also nice to wake up next to Jonny or to fall asleep while they're talking. Or that Jonny's fingers sometimes brush over his when he's petting Stanley and that he really can't get enough of seeing Jonny's face all soft and adoring when he's cuddling with Stanley.

*

It becomes so normal that Patrick doesn't realize how not normal it is. Jonny goes out to meet his tax consultant or some shit like that, and he grabs his keys and wallet, ruffling Stanley's ear.

"I'll be home in an hour or two."

"Can you bring groceries?"

"Text me what you need."

Jonny bends down and kisses Stanley because he's a weirdo like that and he waves at Patrick, the door finally falling shut. Stanley gives Patrick a look like it's his fault that Jonny left.

"Relax, he'll be back soon."

Home, a voice in his head fills in. Its tone sounds suspiciously like Jonny. Huh. Patrick genuinely can't tell when Jonny was at his place the last time. It feels like it was ages ago that they didn't basically live together and that this household wasn't run by a dog.

Patrick huffs to himself, shakes his head and grabs Stanley's leash to get some fresh air. It's crazy how used he is to this routine and how natural it feels to get up and go into the kitchen when Jonny comes home later and sets one bag of groceries down.

Jonny starts moving things into the fridge and the cabinets without waiting for Patrick, laughs at Stanley sniffing around for treats, and bitches about taxes.

"Hey, you got my cereal." Patrick's pretty sure that wasn't on the list he quickly texted Jonny earlier.

Jonny shrugs in response, ripping a bag open and feeding Stanley a carrot. "I knew you were running out."

Well, that doesn't mean anything when Jonny usually likes to go on huge rants about chemicals in cereal, about flavor enhancers and artificial sugar.

He decides to keep his mouth shut and not push his luck as he stores the new box of cereal in the cabinet that Jonny likes to call the devil's cabinet. Way to be dramatic.

*

Patrick starts to take Stanley with him when he's over at the Sharp's because the dogs get along and the girls love Stanley. And Stanley is a sucker for all the attention. If Patrick attempted to braid his hair- and growing up with three sisters he's mastered the art of braiding- Stanley would probably bite off his hand. With Maddie though he tolerates it with stoic patience.

Today the girls are both meeting friends which is disappointing because they are the best about hanging out at Sharpy's. At least Stanley is delighted to see Shooter and the dogs keep chasing each other in the garden while Patrick follows Sharpy back into the living room.

"Hey, Peeksy. Can I ask you something?"

Sharpy's weirdly serious. That's never a good sign. Patrick kind of hates himself for immediately recalling the last few times he was out drinking to make sure he didn't fuck anything up. But the truth is he hasn't been out in weeks and months. Not since he got Stanley. He doesn't go that wild during the season anyways- not anymore- but going out hasn't even been on his mind lately. Even now that he's thinking about it, about getting wasted and dealing with a giant hangover- it doesn't sound very appealing. Well, not as appealing as watching Jonny's stupid fishing shows while Stanley swings back and forth between them, begging for treats and attention.

"Peeksy," Sharpy says, waving his hand around in front of Patrick's face. He flinches. "Are you listening?"

"Yeah, sorry, sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was just saying," Sharpy says, weirdly slow. "That thing with Jonny- how long has that been going on?"

Uh- "What thing with Jonny exactly?"

"I don't know, Kaner. That's what I'm asking."

Okay? Patrick's not sure if they're on the same page here. Maybe that's showing because Sharpy huffs.

"Jesus Christ. For how long have you guys been fucking now?"

What the fuck? How- why is Sharpy- that is so fucking far from the truth. Jonny and him- fucking. Patrick barks out a hysterical laugh.

"We are not- fuck, Sharpy. That's- ew. No fucking way."

For some reason, Sharpy doesn't look convinced. He leans back on the couch and raises one eyebrow. It's not fair that Sharpy always manages to pull off these casual, attractive looks like it's nothing.

"Look," Sharpy says in that soft, patient tone that is usually reserved for his daughters. Patrick makes a face that Sharpy doesn’t bother acknowledging. "I am not judging here, okay?" He pauses and smirks. "Well, maybe I'm judging because Jonny? Seriously, Peeks. You can do better. But I am not judging because he's a guy."

Sharpy's got this so, so wrong.

"Dude," Patrick says weakly. He shakes his head, torn between speechlessness and hysteria. "I am not sleeping with Jonny. I've never even thought about sleeping with Jonny."

"Patrick," Sharpy says and Patrick doesn't think he's ever heard Sharpy use his full name. Uh oh. "You've been sharing a bed with him."

Oh fuck. Of course, people would realize. Patrick has never thought about how that would look like. They've had teammates over of course, and Patrick doesn't think he's bothered closing the doors to the bedroom and the guest bedroom. Fuck, how many of the guys are thinking that they're fucking? For how long have they been thinking that now?

"It's not a big deal," he says weakly. "We've just been- Stanley sleeps in my bed, right? So, Jonny got all jealous and it's just been- I don't know, it works. It's good. We're not- Jesus, there is nothing else to it."

The silence stretches on for a very long time. When Sharpy clears his throat there's a weird tension in the noise.

"Hold on, Pat. Let me get that straight. Jonny moved in with you. I haven't seen either of you coming to the rink on your own in ages. Stanley is Jonny's dog as much as he is yours. You're sharing a fucking bed. And that's- that's you being buddies?"

Well, having it all laid out like that Patrick can see why Sharpy came to his conclusions. He makes a small noise when Patrick remains silent, looking at Patrick like he's thinking that Patrick lost his mind now.

"That's so stupid and oblivious even for you," Sharpy says. Patrick kind of appreciates that he's not holding back. At the same time, he wishes Sharpy was a little more- well, understanding. Compassionate. Whatever.

He winces but Sharpy isn't done yet.

"Do you even realize that you're living like a couple raising a kid? That’s a shitshow waiting to implode, Peeks. That's so fucking stupid. You guys have always been so weird about each other but since you got that dog- Jesus Christ, how are you a functioning adult, Peeks?"

Well yeah. Sometimes Patrick can't help but wonder. And Sharpy still isn't done.

"Look, it's none of my business. I don't care how you're living your life and what you're getting up to with Jonny. But you're my friend and I don't think- I am just saying maybe you should think about if there's nothing else to it. And be honest to yourself."

"I am," Patrick protests, wincing that his voice is so high-pitched suddenly. Fuck. "Sharpy," he tries but his voice cracks again and he's not sure what he's trying to say anyway.

And Sharpy takes pity on him, patting his shoulder with a look of understanding on his face. It's not much better.

"Just maybe- ask yourself if that's normal, yeah? Even for Jonny and your standards."

That sounds suspiciously like a statement Patrick should be offended by, but he doesn't bother.

"Can I grab you a beer?" Sharpy asks as he gets up and Patrick might have to drive home but he can really use one of those.

"You got anything good?"

Jonny's been storing that weird Canadian shit that he likes in Patrick’s fridge lately, the stuff that Patrick's been dreading since his London days. And that maybe illustrates the point Sharpy's been gently but firmly trying to make.

Patrick sighs, accepts the beer Sharpy thrusts into his hand- his favorite- and takes a long gulp.

*

Jonny has cooked dinner for him when he gets back, and Stanley immediately runs off to see if there are any pieces on the ground.

"There are sweet potatoes in the oven," Jonny announces from the stove. "Dinner should be ready in ten minutes."

It's so fucking domestic. The hallway smells great already and when Patrick pokes his head into the kitchen, Jonny's feeding Stanley a piece of chicken, looking sheepish that he's been caught. Like Patrick doesn't know that he's spoiling Stanley rotten. Like he doesn't do it too.

Jonny's wearing an apron- a fucking apron- and his biceps flexes as he stirs the vegetables, frizzling noises coming from the pan. For one very awkward moment, Patrick has the desire to step behind him, to wrap an arm around Jonny's waist and kiss his cheek, or maybe to rest his head between his shoulder blades. Jonny would probably smell homely too, a little like grease and like his usual aftershave.

Patrick winces. Fuck, Sharpy is messing with his head. What the fuck is wrong with him? He does not want to fuck Jonny. And he certainly doesn't want to kiss or cuddle him.

"Thanks," he forces himself to say, offering a smile. "Need any help? I'll just get changed real quick."

"I'm good. Thanks though."

In a way, Patrick's relieved to have an excuse to sneak out of the kitchen and take a deep breath. Jesus. He's going to kill Sharpy for making him see things.

*

The thing is- he doesn't stop seeing things. Like how long the column of Jonny's throat is. How thick his thighs are. How dark and intense his eyes. How charming the small wrinkles around his eyes. How gorgeous his goofy smile is. He's noticing a lot of things suddenly. That Jonny is intensely touchy and handsy even when sober. He keeps brushing his hands along Patrick's shoulders or back. Pulls him into random hugs or headlocks- fuck him for those. He presses their thighs together on the couch, ruffles Patrick's hair, or messes with his helmet on the ice.

Sometimes when he's noticing something, maybe how shiny Jonny's eyes get when he's happy, how wide his grin when he's throwing himself at someone to drown them in his affection and appreciation- sometimes he thinks Sharpy is watching him then and that's scary and intimidating but he never says anything, so Patrick ducks his head and keeps his mouth shut.

Maybe- what if Sharpy has a point?

*

He should stop it. Jonny should go home, and Patrick should remind him that at least he has a perfectly fine guest bedroom. But Stanley is so used to having them both around, he doesn’t know anything else, and Patrick can't take that away from him. And now that he's looking- the nightstand on Jonny's side of the bed is cluttered with water bottles- stainless steel ones because Jonny has educated himself since their rookie year and avoids plastic now- and chargers for his phone, ebook reader and Ipad, a messy stack of books and magazines, a few miscellaneous bottles of pills and supplements, and a hairbrush that Patrick's pretty sure Jonny got for Stanley.

Telling Jonny to leave would be like kicking him out of his home. All that clutter leaving would result in one giant hole, extra space that Patrick has no need for, that would feel out of place and uncomfortable. And he doesn't want Jonny to go. Can't imagine not bickering in the dark before falling asleep or waking up to Stanley poking Jonny with his snout.

"I saw you bickering with Saader at practice," Jonny says, adjusting Stanley's paws between them. "You were looking over at me."

"Making fun of your ugly face."

Jonny doesn't even bother huffing or snorting. He silently lets Patrick's feet slip in between his legs so Patrick can chase the warmth of his body. Thank god Sharpy doesn't know about every little ritual they have. But still.

"Hey," Patrick says quietly, making a face when his voice cracks at the end.

Jonny hums back, unbothered and oblivious. Patrick could easily roll over, push the dog out of the way and he'd be in Jonny's arms. Or he could kiss Jonny. He's probably a good kisser, soft and intent, passionate and intense, entirely focused on making it a good kiss.

"Can I try something?"

Patrick's never been a light sleeper or struggled to fall asleep the way Jonny used to. But ticking noises of clocks have always driven him crazy so he's never had one in his bedroom. Now though he kind of wishes he did so he'd have some kind of noise to concentrate on, something to listen to other than Jonny's soft breaths. At least he'd know how many seconds pass before Jonny makes a small noise, loud in the quiet bedroom.

"Kaner, if you're fucking with me-"

It's impatient. Irritated.

Patrick snorts. "Just- If you don't want- if I'm wrong- then- just tell me and I'll stop, and we can forget about it."

"Wrong about what?"

Jonny's voice is softer but there's still a hint of irritation in it.

Patrick's never been great with words. Certainly not great at putting his feelings into words. Especially not when he doesn't know what he's feeling. Now that he's figured some of it out- maybe- he's not going to walk around the issue any longer. With Jonny, that's never how they've been. If there are things to be done or to be said they'll do it, maybe yell at each other, cuss and throw insults around, but it's out of their system then and they can move on.

So, he kisses Jonny. Or he tries. It doesn't go very smoothly. Stanley is in their middle which he kind of forgot until there's a sharp, panicked growl from underneath him.

"Jesus, watch it," Jonny hisses while Stanley scrambles off the bed and whines, pitiful and accusingly. "What the fuck, Kaner?"

He inhales, undoubtedly to give a lecture about dog's bones and emotions or some shit like that but Patrick doesn't have the patience to endure one of those speeches today.

This time when he leans in there's nothing in the way- literally- and Jonny tenses up when Patrick brings their lips together. He sucks in air which is not very sexy when Patrick's trying to kiss him, so he tugs on Jonny's shoulder, tilts his head, and changes the angle. Jonny exhales, softer, a small "oh" leaving his lips but he kisses back.

His arm comes up around Patrick's waist, he rolls over so they're facing each other and deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into Patrick's mouth. It's surprisingly soft. Patrick almost expected Jonny to go all in, to press Patrick into the mattress, and grind his hips and make Patrick dizzy with want and lust. Instead, it's slow and gentle like he's testing the waters. And it kind of makes sense.

They know everything about each other. They shared a room on the road for several years and somewhere along the way they lost the last bit of shame around each other. Without even meaning to, Patrick has figured out that Jonny doesn't jerk off in the shower, that he prefers to do it late at night before falling asleep or early in the morning when he wakes up before his alarm, and that he usually heaves out a deep breath after his orgasm. And Jonny knows Patrick better than any of his exes have ever known him. But this- This is one road they've never gone down. One thing they don’t know about each other. It makes sense to explore it first. To take it slow.

Jonny's tongue delicately slides along his lip, his fingers move into Patrick's hair and that pushes all of Patrick's buttons. He groans, embarrassingly needy, and he can feel Jonny smile into the kiss, scooting closer.

The mattress moves, and first Patrick thinks Jonny's moving but then Stanley forces his way back between them, sniffing around in confusion, pushing his snout against Patrick's chest and Jonny's neck. It's very unsexy.

They pull apart, jerking in surprise so at least Patrick isn't the only one who forgot that there's a dog in the room. And he loves that dog to pieces, he really does, but he could have done without him right now. He's already petting him though, fingers moving on instinct, and Jonny does the same, chuckling. Patrick never noticed how nice that sound is.

"If you are wrong about what?" Jonny asks softly, glancing up at Patrick. His lashes are long and dark, a pretty curve to them like shadows around his eyes. He's breathtakingly beautiful. How did Patrick miss that all these years?

His foggy brain takes too much time to realize that Jonny's repeating what he said before the kiss. How long did they even kiss for? He lost track of everything around him.

Patrick clears his throat, just to make sure his voice doesn't give up on him.

"Wrong about that this is more." He shrugs. "Took a while for me to realize."

He isn't going to tell Jonny that it took a conversation with Sharpy to nudge him in the right direction. Never in a million years.

Jonny's eyes are soft, a fondness in them that's overwhelming. Patrick's heart is hammering in his chest, maybe it's the kiss, maybe the excitement. Either way- somehow, it's easy. It's a big thing, they're changing their entire dynamics, their entire friendship. They've kissed. They've crossed a line they can't go back behind without things being different. But it's Jonny, and Jonny is the one steady, sure thing in Patrick's life. Well, apart from Stanley now. The thought makes him smile.

"Me too," Jonny says. His hand moves from Stanley's head to his belly where Patrick's absently stroking the fur. He slides his fingers between Patrick's and squeezes, a soft grin on his lips while Stanley rolls over and barks happily.

As much as Patrick wants to get his lips on Jonny's again, to take it further- he doesn't have the heart to kick Stanley out of the bed. And neither does Jonny because he leans over and presses another kiss to Patrick's lips, looking sheepish when he pulls back, Stanley comfortably sandwiched between them.

"So, since I let you try something-" Jonny says slowly, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"When you got Stanley-" Jonny's thumb swipes along his knuckles. "Did you plan this? That I'd be around all the time?"

Well- maybe? Patrick's not sure.

"I- uh- might have been drunk when I came up with the idea," he admits. Fuck it, Jonny already knows that Patrick's not always rational. "And I was stubborn, so I went through with it. I guess- we were spending so much time together anyway and you were depressed over that stupid rat-" The corner of Jonny's mouth twitches. "And it just seemed to make sense at the time."

"Thank god you don't need logic when you're playing hockey." Despite rolling his eyes Jonny still looks fond. It's not dark enough for Patrick to miss the hint of a smile on his face.

He shakes his head back because Jonny has a point but Patrick's not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that.

"So, there's actually something I gotta tell you." That's a sheepish tone. The tone he used when he casually admitted that he played through a concussion. Crazy how well he knows that guy. Patrick raises an eyebrow.

"I- uh- right before you got Stanley- I wasn't lying then. I did miss-" Jonny huffs. "The rat." For Jonny's monotone voice that's a pretty sarcastic tone. "But that wasn't the reason why I was in a bad mood."

"No?" It was too fitting for Jonny to miss the dog instead of his ex, to find the worst reason ever to be sulking.

Jonny sighs. "No. When we broke up- I mean, she broke up with me."

Oh. Patrick always kind of assumed Jonny called things off or that it was at least consensual. It's stupid but Jonny doesn't seem like the kind of guy to be broken up with.

Stanley makes a soft noise and shuffles closer to Jonny, puts his paw on his knee, and his snout on Jonny's chest. Patrick kind of wishes he could snap a picture and maybe put that on his nightstand.

"Anyways," Jonny says with a shrug and Patrick remembers that yes, maybe he's getting ahead of himself. "She broke up with me and she said, and I'm paraphrasing, that she was ‘sick of sharing me with you’. That she felt like she was the side chick because I'd always be around you or some shit like that. It was- when she said it I thought it was ridiculous. But- you know-" Jonny grimaces and Patrick feels like he's coming off the ice after a long shift, breathless and a little dizzy and disorientated. "I wasn't sad that she had left," Jonny adds. "I thought I would be, but I didn't lie when I said I missed the dog more than her. But what she said was true and that got me thinking. We were constantly around each other, I was spending way more time with you than her. So, I was figuring out what that meant and gave you the dumb excuse about missing the dog to buy some time to work my feelings out. And then you went and got a fucking dog and you acted like it was _our_ dog and the thing is that I didn't really mind."

Oh. That is a lot to take in. Part of Patrick wants to kiss Jonny again if only to avoid the conversation they have to have. But there's that responsible part inside of him, the one that usually perks up when it comes to hockey or his sisters. So, he clears his throat.

"But you knew? For a while now?"

"I think I did." Jonny absently ruffles Stanley's fur, scratches his ears and chin and Patrick just- they shared one kiss. He's not 18 anymore but he's hardly a grandpa. He should want to be all over Jonny. He should have had Jonny's dick in his mouth like ten minutes ago. But he's fine with this, petting the dog, talking, having a mature adult conversation. Sharpy and Seabs would be proud of them. There's something about seeing Jonny and Stanley and having that feeling of being home. Of having arrived somewhere.

"You should have said something, you know?"

"Yeah," Jonny agrees. He smiles when Stanley's head moves to the curve of his neck, Stanley's body moving over his. If there's one guy Patrick's willing to share Jonny with, who's allowed to steal all his attention, it's Stanley. "I guess I was scared. When you turned up with Stanley- no offense, Pat, but you had no idea what you were doing."

Patrick chuckles. That's easy to admit. "No idea at all."

"I was telling myself I was around only for Stanley to make sure you wouldn't accidentally kill him. But I loved being here. Being around you. And I wanted to tell you, but I guess I was scared you'd freak out and throw me out. So, I took the cowardly way and kept my mouth shut."

Patrick would like to say Jonny should have told him. They could have had more time. But a tiny part of him remembers the way he reacted to Sharpy. If Jonny had told him there could be something other than friendship- or, Jesus, if Jonny had tried to kiss him, Patrick might not have reacted in the most sensible way.

"I am glad you didn't stay silent," Jonny adds, soft. He's still scratching Stanley's chin and the dog clearly is about to fall asleep on his chest. Stanley can have that spot for himself another time, Patrick decides.

He bends down and kisses his head in apology, presses a peck to Jonny's cheek because it's right there, and bites back his stupid smile when Jonny hums. When he pulls Stanley to the side the dog barks accusingly, scrambling up and staring at Patrick like Patrick just killed his puppies. Stanley licks his snout, barks once, and jumps off the bed, pitiful whines announcing that he's moved into a corner of the room.

Jonny, the asshole, laughs.

"Jealous, Pat?"

"Yes," he admits and the sound he gets in return is more surprised than amused.

Jonny's arms come up around his body when he takes Stanley's spot, throwing one leg over Jonny's waist, forehead leaned against Jonny's.

"Hey," he whispers because he doesn't know what else to say and he likes the way it sounds when Jonny laughs.

"Hi," he mutters back, amusement and fondness in his voice equally.

Jonny's hands feel big on his waist, sure and steady, his body muscular like it was made to take Patrick's weight. How did Patrick sleep so many nights next to Jonny without the overwhelming urge to move into his arms? How did he ever look at Jonny and not want this?

"For the record," Jonny adds, stroking his hands under Patrick's shirt. Patrick kind of hates himself for always sleeping with a shirt, for not taking it off so he can feel Jonny's naked chest on his skin. "You're not going to kick me out to- I don't know, take it slow?"

God, no. He's not that much of a masochist to torture them both like that. And he doesn't have that much willpower to stay away or send Jonny away.

"Don't you dare leave," he says, stroking his thumb along Jonny's lip. "You're right. I don't know what the fuck I am doing with Stanley and I don't think I can stand not having you around. I got used to you."

Jonny breathes out in relief. He's absently stroking one hand along Patrick's back, following the line of his spine, the other resting on his waist.

"You know- you'd do just fine with Stanley," he says quietly. "I thought you'd regret having him after a week, but he adores you and you're good with him. I don't think you need me."

"Believe me, I really do."

Patrick has no problem admitting that. And this thing between them might be new but he knows Jonny. Jonny loves hearing that others need him.

"But yeah," he adds, quiet. "You probably should keep your condo because we'll be at each other's throats in a few days, but I don't want things to change."

"I don't know, Pat." Jonny laughs, and he leans up, brushes his lips across Patrick's ear, blowing out a soft breath. It's on purpose, no doubt. Fuck Patrick's body for the shiver running down his spine. "I'd like some things to change."

It's so stupid and it shouldn't work on Patrick, but it totally does. If he rolled his hips, thrusting against Jonny's, he'd be hard in just a few seconds. But-

"Jonny, the dog."

He's not going to have sex with Jonny, their first time, while Stanley's in the corner. That would be a whole other level of creepy.

"I know," Jonny mutters ruefully. "And we have time. But- yeah, I want that. It's been killing me to sleep next to you without being able to touch."

Jonny can't keep talking like that and expect Patrick to keep it chaste.

"Doesn't seem like you to keep your mouth shut about something like that."

Jonny lets the silence stretch on for a while, something Patrick might never be capable of doing. He's always hated it when someone does it, makes him feel stupid and worthless but the silence is calm and peaceful, and Jonny drags his free hand up to Patrick's curls and tucks them back behind his ear.

"Well," he says finally. "You've been messing with my head."

In any other moment, Patrick would chirp him for being ridiculous and the words have almost left his mouth but then they die somewhere between his throat and lips. He swallows instead. Breathes through the wave of affection and- something. He doesn't quite dare to label it yet.

"Shut up," he mutters instead, and he rolls his eyes at Jonny's chuckle.

They start kissing again, lazy and slow, exploring each other, tasting, soaking in every new sensation. Jonny's surprisingly lazy and gentle, fingers curled around Patrick's neck, keeping him on top of him. It's still passionate and intense but more like they're bringing home a 6-1 lead in the last period of a game in early October, not like chasing a 2-1 lead in the playoffs.

He ends up in Jonny's arms, his back pressed against Jonny's chest and he feels a furry ball of heat snuggle closer again. Stanley must have hopped back on the bed without him noticing and the dog has accepted his faith that he's not going to claim the middle spot tonight. Behind him, Jonny's breathing into his shoulder, kissing his neck every now and then, in front of him Stanley is curled up, his tail wagging along Patrick's arm. He could stay like this forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to say hi on [ tumblr](https://blackhawksuniverse.tumblr.com/)!


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